Tales from Behind the Counter
by Indigo-Night-Wisp
Summary: A Winchester and a Leandros walk into a bar... and then their older brothers show up. A vault for one-shots set in and around the various bars frequented by the brothers Winchester and Leandros, along with their respective friends/allies.
1. Double Duty

**Disclaimer: You see, Doctor, lately I've been suffering from delusions. Perhaps you might be able to help me…**

**A/N: I just realized that my favorite characters from two of my favorite fandoms (see category) spend a great deal of time in bars. If I was a normal person, I might be worried about this. However, since I am an author of fanfiction –and thus, not anything even **_**remotely**_** resembling **_**normal**_**– instead of being worried, I am besieged by plot-puppies and start writing stories about my neurosis. Who needs therapy? I've got my support group right here.**

**These one-shots are all unrelated, unless otherwise stated. And it will be. Stated. They will also probably not be precisely canon-concentric, just so you know. Updates will be sporadic. **

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**Double Duty**

**Timeline: Near the beginning of Season 1 of Supernatural, pre-series of Cal Leandros.**

* * *

Somewhere in South Carolina

Sam Winchester gave his brother a mournful look as Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of a drinking establishment bearing the lofty name of _The Sud Bucket_. He knew why Dean wanted to go out tonight –successful hunts weren't exactly sure things all the time, and one they came out of with no injuries or car damages was something to be celebrated– but that didn't mean he had to be thrilled about it.

But Sammy wasn't the only Winchester who knew how to pull the puppy-dog eyes, and Dean asked for so little from his family, that not giving it to him when he _did _ask made Sam feel horrible; and so, really, it was just better all round to surrender gracefully and let his big brother drag him out for a night at the local bar.

They entered _The Sud Bucket _together, and Dean immediately steered them towards the bar counter. Usually, they would grab a table somewhere, close to the back if they could. Less conspicuous, easy access to back doors, and all around more private. And if there was one thing the Winchesters liked, it was privacy.

But tonight, Dean didn't want privacy. He didn't want easy access to doors or inconspicuousness. What he wanted was easy access to the drinks and to chat with the locals. Hence, the counter. Bartenders know everything, or so the paraphrased saying goes. Local gossip, friendly conversation, good beer. Dean was ready to relax.

Unfortunately, Sam noticed, the bartender of this establishment didn't look like the type to strike up any "friendly conversation." His face showed a distinct disinterest in small talk. That was the second thing Sam noticed.

The first was the bartender's age. He looked _way _too young for the job he was doing.

He caught the sharp glance Dean tossed his way and nodded slightly to show that he'd seen too. They slid onto barstools side by side, Dean rapping the bar lightly with a fist.

"Whenever you've got time," he drawled. The bartender gave him a nod, finished pouring out a shot for someone, and came down the counter to stand by them.

"What can I get you?" he asked. Sam blinked. The guy, the _kid_, couldn't be older than eighteen, but his voice was a whisky-and-smoke filled husk that whispered across the hearing and slid into the brain. It was, Sam had to admit, sort of appropriate.

Dean flashed him a grin. "Two of your best."

Gray eyes fixed them both with a sort of dry resignation. "I'm not even sure we _have _a best," he muttered. "There's 'less-disgusting-than-the-last-one,' and possibly 'drinkable,' but I wouldn't say there's a _best_." While he'd been talking, he'd also been drawing a pair of mugs out from behind the counter and pouring out the golden liquid. Now, he slid them across the bar into the brothers' waiting hands.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly a ringing endorsement for your place of employment." He gestured at the kid. "Aren't there rules against trash-talkin' the place?"

The bartender shrugged lazily. "Probably. But let's face it, who else is gonna take this sucky job? I'm one of the few they can get, especially people willing to work weird shifts. Jim can't afford to fire me." He tugged at the back of his head, releasing a fall chin-length black hair. Quickly, efficiently, he swept it back up in a ponytail, snapping the rubber band around it with ease born of long practice. He moved away to refill the shot glass.

Dean grinned at Sam. _I like this guy_, he mouthed. Sam stifled a snort. Dean would like him. Snarky, irreverent, wearing a t-shirt under his apron that said _You Might Not Like It, But I Don't Care_. Yeah, Dean knew a kindred mind when he met one.

Oddly enough, considering Sam's first impression of him, said mind was making his way back down the bar in their direction. He reached them and leaned casually on the counter, studying them carefully. Sam began to feel rather like he was being analyzed by an experienced eye, and resisted the urge to shift in his seat, feeling the cool weight of the gun in his jacket pressing against his ribs.

Dean broke the strange silence. "So," he said, cocking his head a little.

"What?" said the bartender, warily.

Dean's voice was casual, but he got right to the point. "You're a little young to be bartending, aren't you?"

Unruffled, the kid shrugged. "Got ID that says I'm not." Suddenly suspicious, he gave them another assessing look. "You two cops?"

"No," Sam assured him, not wanting to enter into another lie so late in the day. Besides, unlike some here, apparently, _they _didn't have the ID to back up such a claim. "Just concerned."

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, don't be. I'm an adult." He was still tense, ready at any moment to spring into action. Not that it'd do him much good. Even Dean had a few good inches on him, and he was skinny as a rail.

Dean ran an assessing eye of his own over the kid. "You're seventeen if you're a day," he pronounced after a moment.

"_Eighteen_," the bartender said sullenly. He looked defiant all of a sudden. "And it's not like I'd ever try drinking any of this swill, so I'm not _technically _underage for anything I'm doing here." It sounded like an old argument –one he'd had with someone else, obviously.

Dean had noticed that too. "So, who did you convince with _that_?" he drawled good-naturedly. "Somehow, I can't see too many parents letting that argument persuade them."

The kid snorted but relaxed a little. "You haven't met my parents," he said, a wry grin twisting at his lips. (Was it just Sam, or had he muttered, "Lucky you," under his breath as he reached for a towel and began swiping at the bar.)

Sam was so preoccupied with their new acquaintance, he didn't even notice Dean reaching for the little bowl of peanuts he'd been absentmindedly digging into. He jumped a little when his brother's hand bumped into his. "Dude, what teh crap are you-"

"Now, Sammy," Dean admonished cheekily. "You really need to learn to share."

Sam glared at him, more for the tone than the nickname, though Dean didn't know that. "It's _Sam_," he said huffily, not missing the way amused gray eyes were watching their playful tiff. Dean grinned at him.

"So," the bartender said casually, tone matching Dean's drawling way of saying the word exactly. "You two are brothers?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. Most people didn't come to precisely _that _conclusion when they saw him and Dean together. "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"

Gray eyes rolled again, but softened. "I know that look."

Confused, Sam stared at him. "What look?"

Smirking a little, the bartender flicked a finger at Dean, reaching again for Sam's peanuts. "That look you're wearing. Half-tolerant, half-ohmylord-my-big-brother-is-driving-me-crazy."

Dean chortled. "Recognize it from little siblings?"

The kid smirked. "From the mirror," he corrected. Flipping the towel over his shoulder, freeing his hands, he stuck one out to them. "Cal," he said.

Grinning, Dean accepted the handshake. "Dean," he answered. "And my little brother, Sam."

Cal eyed them for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm sure there are lots of jokes I could make about the irony of that, but for the sake of your fragile older-brother-ego, I will restrain myself."

Sam laughed out loud as Dean sputtered a little. He was starting to like this kid too.

"Pleased to meet you," he said politely, shaking Cal's hand. "You're a little brother too then?"

Cal smiled a little. "Yeah."

"And your big bro is okay with you working in this dump?" Dean asked, suddenly back on track. Cal gave him a narrow-eyed glance before relaxing a little.

"You're all the same," he told Dean, pouring out another shot and some sort of dark liquid into a glass and then sliding them down the bar in opposite directions without even pausing. "Big brothers. Freaking out over poor little just-a-teenager Cal working in a bar. I can take care of myself," he grumbled.

Dean was smirking again. "I take it Big Brother doesn't exactly approve," he said. The dull roar of the room at their backs was punctuated by brief flares of voices raised above the din.

"_Big Brother_ is probably right outside," Cal muttered. "He usually comes in around now, not because he'd ever put anything served in this place inside that immaculately kept 'temple' of his, but because he worries about me too much to stay home and sleep like a normal person." He sniffed.

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. He definitely knew that feeling, the one where your older brother was practically stalking you because he _never _left you alone for more than a few minutes. Lately, Dean seemed to think that if Sam was out of his sight for more than five seconds, he'd come back and find his brother a train wreck. He wasn't far off. Jess's loss still weighed heavily on Sam's mind, and even though Dean was doing his best to help, the only thing that could really heal the hurt was time. And even Dean couldn't control that (though Sam had no doubt he'd be willing to try).

Another altercation broke out behind them and Cal's attention was diverted briefly.

"I hate this crowd," he muttered, swiping at the counter viciously. "They always make a mess. And who gets to clean it up? Not Jim, that's for freakin' sure."

Now Dean and Sam were turning to look behind them. A big ox of a man was tossing back shots like they were water, and didn't look like he was planning on stopping any time soon, despite being too drunk to realize that the barmaid he was trying to sweet-talk was _so _not interested. He grabbed her arm and yanked her close to him, whatever he was saying lost to the din, but assuredly not something repeatable in polite company.

Dean was halfway out of his seat when the girl twisted around and yelled desperately, "_Cal_!"

"'Scuse me for a sec," the teenager said, hoisting himself onto the edge of the counter and then swinging over it. "Time to earn my other paycheck." He was in the crowd before either Winchester could respond, making a swift beeline for the barmaid and her captor.

Sam and Dean watched, concerned, as Cal reached for the jerk's arm. He was a lot smaller than the guy, and nowhere _near_ as mean. What was he gonna…

Cal grabbed the man's arm, inserted himself in between him and the barmaid, and threw an elbow right into the florid, scruffy face.

Sam felt his mouth drop open.

"He's-" Dean started to say, only to be cut off by a calm, smooth voice from behind them.

"Strong? Fast? Enjoying himself far too much? Yes, all of those."

They turned again, this time to see that they were no longer alone at their end of the bar. The newcomer was tan-skinned, with long blonde hair pulled into a braid down his back. He was wearing a long, dark-colored coat. Sam looked up and caught his eyes.

Gray eyes, wary, but just a little bit amused. Cal's eyes, in a different face.

"You're the big brother then," Dean said. It wasn't a question.

Their new acquaintance inclined his head. "My name is Niko Leandros. And yes, Cal is my younger brother." He raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for some reciprocating information.

Sam didn't disappoint. "Sam and Dean. He's my… we're brothers too."

The same assessing glance his brother employed swept over them, softening a bit. "Yes… I can see that." Not bothering to clarify _how _he could see that, he continued, "Thank you."

Confused, Dean asked, "Uh, for what?"

Niko made a small gesture in the direction of the rest of the bar, where Cal was currently using his knee to ensure Mr. Doesn't-Know-the-Meaning-of-No would never be able to carry on his family line, and indeed, looking quite pleased about it. "For being willing to help. It's unnecessary, of course, but not many people would even bother. So thank you."

Dean was opening his mouth to respond, but was cut off once more –this time by Cal slamming Drunk Dude facedown onto the bar next to them. He was talking.

"Whoa, hold on now. Didn't we already deja this vu? I could've _sworn _we've been in this situation before. But I must be mistaken. 'Cause you know, if we _had _been here before, I'm sure I would've said something like, 'Don't let me catch you feeling up the barmaids again, butthole.' Oh, _wait a minute_. I _know _I've said _that _before. Guess you're just hard of hearing. Sorry, pal," he jerked the man upright and shoved him towards the door. "I don't have a three-strike policy. I have a one-strike policy and lazy door watchers. Get out of here. If you really wanna drink here, come back when my shift is over." Using one combat-booted foot to kick open the door, he tossed the barely conscious man outside and then strode back to the bar.

Sam and Dean were staring at him. Cal grinned. "Sorry, 'bout that, guys. Had to do a little pest control." He hopped up and over the counter again. "Hi, Nik." He reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle and a small mug. The bottle was labeled "Niko's Nasty Healthy Stuff," and Cal poured some out into the mug and pushed it towards its owner.

His brother raised an eyebrow. "I don't like you playing bouncer," he said as a greeting, accepting the mug and taking a sip.

Cal rolled his eyes towards Sam expressively. "Geez, does _yours _have this much of an overprotective streak?"

Sam gave him a wryly commiserating grin. "You have no idea."

Setting down his… whatever it was, Niko rapped softly on the counter. "Your employer is heading our way," he murmured. Cal scowled.

"What now, Jim?" he asked, easy-going attitude disappearing faster than Dean's pie had earlier that afternoon. The bar owner frowned at him.

"I thought I told you to stop knocking the patrons around."

The look Cal gave him was lazy. "Yeah, well, you also told me not to let any of the girls get harassed. Jenny called for help. If you don't want me to do my job, just say the word. You don't pay me enough for it as it is, and I get enough complaining about it at home without you ragging at me too."

Jim's mouth twisted up a little, but Cal's defensive posture and the way Niko subtly drew Jim's attention to his presence convinced the older man to back off. "Just…" he hesitated. "Try not to permanently damage anyone, okay?" He turned on his heel and walked away.

"No promises," Cal muttered. Niko's lips twitched before he turned back to Sam and Dean.

"It was nice to meet you," he said pleasantly, standing and holding out his hand. They shook with him, again feeling like they were being measured somehow. Niko stepped back from the bar and shot his little brother a look. "Cal, your shift is almost done, and I'm afraid you're going to have to give your two weeks."

The Winchesters felt more than saw Cal stiffen. "Yeah?" he said casually. Too casually.

"Yes," Niko said softly. "Only it will be two days rather than two weeks. We need to move on."

Cal nodded, tight lipped, then glanced at the clock and started last call. In the ensuing movement for the bar by patrons who wanted one last drink, Niko Leandros slipped out the front door, but not before locking eyes with Sam briefly and giving him a nod that told him he might, just might have not been found wanting under that intense, watchful gray gaze.

Dean was giving Cal their phone number, "just in case he or his brother ever needed anything." Cal gave him a strange look, but took the number –scrawled on a napkin– any way. "What are you guys, some kind of… Brother Bodyguards? Making sure all your fellow sibling pairs are fighting fit?"

"Not exactly," Dean grinned. "Just… you ever hear of anything… weird? A death or a disappearance you just can't explain by normal means?"

Cal's gray eyes were sharp as they met his. "Yeah," he said slowly, stuffing the napkin into his jeans pocket. "I have."

"We help with that sort of thing," Sam piped in, letting his big brother's instincts run this one. "So if you ever need it…" he tapped the counter, much like Niko had earlier. "We're a phone call away."

The kid's mouth was twitching, just a little, and his eyes were amused again. "Thanks," he said. "Really."

Dean stood up then and prepared to leave. Sam hung back just a bit longer, prompting his brother to wait by the door. Sam said to Cal, "Look… you don't have to call only if you need help. I know what it's like to never settle down, to always be on the move. If you ever need to talk…"

Now Cal was full-on smirking. "Your brother calls you a girl, doesn't he?"

"Wha-" Sam sputtered. Cal laughed. "Thanks," he said again. "But seriously, dude." He gave Sam a wink that reminded him so much of Dean he just _knew _what was coming next. "No chick flick moments."

Ignoring the outraged spluttering behind him, Cal untied his apron and started for the door leading to the owner's office. "Hey, Jim! I gotta talk to you…"

Dean waited until they were outside in the Impala before he said anything.

"He sure had you pegged, Sammy."

Sam gave him a scathing look. "Remind you of anybody?"

Dean looked genuinely puzzled. "Uh, no? Should he?"

Sighing, but hiding a smile, Sam leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. "Never mind, bro. I'm sure it's just me."

* * *

**A/N: Why is it set in South Carolina? Because I was in South Carolina, relaxing after a hard day of vacationing, when I started writing it. And was also reading _Blackout_ when I started writing, and guess where Cal is when it starts? You guessed it! Good ol' SC. **

**If Cal seems a little more smooth and a little less spacey/psycho, it's probably due to a personal belief of mine that Cal-working-the-(human)-bar is a bit different than Cal-the-rest-of-the-time. Being a bartender has actually probably done wonders for his social skills (which, considering the state they're in now, says something rather terrifying about how they were previously). Basically, he's not the type to sit and listen to you spouting your woes or drowning your sorrows, but he can make small-talk with the patrons as good as anybody.**

**Bonus points for anyone who knows where the line "Didn't we already deja this vu?" comes from. ;)**


	2. Never Have I Ever

**Disclaimer: Doctor, the delusions involve several fictional characters, and quite frankly, it's starting to get out of hand…**

**A/N: Just finished an essay for school in which I got to compare/contrast the Leandros brothers, **_**and **_**just got a new story follower for this fic (Thanks Illeana Starbright!) In celebration, here's an update. **

**Some canon, some headcanon, some not-quite-either-but-possibly-very-close-to-one-or-the-other. Some otherwise serious events may be joked about. There's a bit of crack, a bit of angst, and something resembling "touching" here. Be ye warned.**

**Just as a quick warning, there're a few parts in here that get a little… odd. Sophia's line of work comes up. As does Robin… well, Robin. Nothing is too gross or explicit though, so don't worry. I just wanted y'all to know. **

**These one-shots are all unrelated, unless otherwise stated. And it will be. Stated. They will also probably not be precisely canon-concentric, just so you know. Updates will be sporadic. **

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**Never Have I Ever**

**Timeline: Outside of continuity for both fandoms. (That means possible spoilers for all books and all seasons/episodes, as well as some leaning on the fourth wall.) **

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Harvelle's Roadhouse, Nebraska

"Never have I ever…" Robin scrunched up his face, tapping his fingers on the table top.

Impatient as always, Cal snapped. "Well, Loman?"

Shooting the younger man a glare, Robin said, "Be patient, you insufferable youngling! I'm thinking. There isn't much I haven't done."

Cal snorted. "Now that, I believe." He shared a commiserating glance with his brother as their puck friend tried to come up with something.

How exactly he, Nik, Robin, and Promise had come to be sitting in Harvelle's Roadhouse with Jo Harvelle herself, her friend Ash, and the Leandros's sometimes-allies, the brothers Winchester, playing the old drinking game of "Never Have I Ever," Cal wasn't exactly sure. However, since nobody was currently trying to kill any of them and there was plenty of junk food, he wasn't really complaining.

Robin snapped his fingers suddenly. "I've got it! Never have I ever…" he grinned mischievously, "said the words, 'No, I don't want to make out with you.'"

Every person at the table grimaced and took a shot, Jo and Ash having said those exact words to Robin himself, just a few minutes before. They'd been playing for only a quarter of an hour, but already they'd given up getting new glasses, instead just pouring out the shots from their bottle. They were playing with whiskey brewed by Grandpa Harvelle himself, an old family recipe. There were "tons of bottles of the stuff" in the basement, according to Jo, and since her mom wasn't here…

No one thought to question the fact that none of them knew how they'd gotten there, or that Ash and Jo were present, despite everyone having been sure they were… well, dead. Actually, Dean _had _pointed it out at the very beginning, but Ash had immediately began spouting off something about continuity and time/space dimensional hash ("If you find yourself remembering stuff that you think hasn't happened yet, don't worry about it. It'll wear off."), interspersed with munching on hot wings and tracing equations in the sauce. Eventually, he gave up, pointed the wing he was eating at Dean and said, "Look, man, I am a _genius_ with degrees in physics and computer science, _and_ I'm technically dead, which gives me access to the secrets of life, Zen, and all things meta. You wouldn't understand it anyway, so shut up and enjoy my company while it lasts."

"My turn!" Jo said excitedly, a little tipsy. She grinned at them all and said, "Never have I ever… completely _lost_ it when I thought my brother might be dead."

Sam, Dean, Cal, and Niko all reached into the middle and took their shots without hesitation. They all knew it was true. Robin eyed them all with something resembling fond exasperation as he said, "Okay, I've got another one."

"You just went!" Sam protested. Robin waved away his protest and spread his hands. "Never have I ever… been in love with a vampire," he said, shooting Niko a wicked glance.

Calmly, the eldest Leandros reached into the middle and pulled out two glasses. Handing one of them to Promise, he tipped his head back, downing his quickly. Jo looked sort of disgusted. Dean looked resigned, and Sam was trying to look understanding and failing. Ash didn't care. Cal sniggered.

"I'm still not sure how we got Niko to play this game in the first place, and now you're specifically _targeting_ him, Loman? You got a death wish?"

Niko shot his brother a glare, and was about to retort when Promise spoke up for the first time. "I've got one."

"Spill," Dean ordered. He rather liked Promise, even if it was weird that Niko was human and dating a vampire.

She smirked then, tiny little fangs glinting a little in the dim lighting. "Never have I ever… purposely annoyed my older brother."

Sam and Cal reached into the middle, raised their glasses to each other, and downed their shots simultaneously. Dean and Niko looked amused. Robin cackled. Promise smiled smugly.

"Never have I ever," Cal began, "been arrested." He grinned as Sam and Dean took their shots, smirked when Robin did, and laughed outright when Promise downed one.

"Seriously? What'd you do?"

She gave him an amused look. "Ask your brother sometime," was all she said, and Cal had to be content with that.

"Never have I ever… had a mullet," Sam said, a little lamely. Ash snorted and reached for a shot. No one was surprised when Robin did the same.

"What?" he said, in answer to Cal's disgusted look. "The eighties were fun."

Shaking his head, Cal reached for the bottle and refilled the two empty glasses.

Dean was next. "Never have I ever… participated in drunken karaoke and dancing while naked."

Robin took a shot. Everyone rolled their eyes. Sam took a shot. His brother choked.

"What?" Sam asked. He winked at Cal. "College is fuuuuunnn…"

While Dean was still sputtering and Cal was still chuckling, Niko said, "Never have I ever… sold a car for three times its worth."

Robin stuck his tongue out at Niko and took the shot. Cal didn't know why he was complaining. He had the fastest metabolism of any of them, and (besides Promise) was the only one not feeling any effects of the whiskey. Cal's tolerance was pretty high too, as was Promise's (gotta love those non-human genes). Niko had an alcoholic tolerance (for a human) like nobody's business, as did Dean, though for different reasons. Ash and Jo were technically dead, and Sam was Winchester-stubborn, which counted for more than you'd think. All of them had drunk enough to put most people under the table, but the worst of them were just tipsy. (Ash started to explain this when Sam brought it up, but Dean shoved a potato chip in his mouth and he shut up.)

"Ooooh, my turn again," Jo said, obviously thinking hard. "Umm… oh! I've got a good one. Never have I ever…" she paused dramatically, glancing at Promise, "drank _blood_."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then, Promise, Cal, and Sam all reached out, snagged a shot, and tossed them back.

"Who needs a 12-step program, right Sam?" Cal drawled, dropping his glass and watching it bounce on the table.

"Blood Drinkers United," Sam replied solemnly, bumping his fist against Cal's. Promise set her glass down delicately and licked her lips, somehow managing to aim this gesture in Jo's direction. Jo gulped and stuffed a chip in her mouth.

"Wow," Ash said into the silence. "Awkward…"

Dean coughed pointedly. Robin took the hint and said loudly, "Never have I ever… kissed a demon."

Dean shot him a dirty look, but took his shot. Cal said, "Wait a minute, there's something you _haven't _kissed?"

Jo looked thoughtful. "Does it still count if it technically kissed me?"

"Yes," Robin said firmly, ignoring Cal. Jo shrugged, and took the shot. Ash grinned.

"Yes! We are back in business. Never have I ever…" he paused dramatically. "Eaten _tofu_." The last word was said in the tone of voice usually reserved for demons and other undead monstrosities.

Niko and Sam each took a shot. Cal stuck his tongue out at his brother as he reluctantly did the same. Niko smacked the back of his head with one hand, while pushing his glass into the middle to be refilled with the other.

Hissing, and rubbing the back of his head, Cal retaliated, "Never have I ever… stabbed a man in the femoral artery because I didn't like the way he was looking at my brother."

"Liar," Niko said implacably (so implacably, no one could tell if he was serious), even as he tossed back another shot.

Dean was torn between being scandalized and being impressed. "What? No, no, we don't go on until we hear this story."

Niko spread his hands. "It's not much of a story. Once, when we were younger, Sophia had a customer who had… _different_ interests. Usually, I'd just get us out of the area when I found out someone was coming, but this time, I wasn't expecting it, and Cal and I were in the front room when he got there. He immediately started eyeing Cal, and then he asked Sophia if she'd mind if he… well, I won't repeat what he said. Suffice to say, I knew Sophia wasn't going to protect us, especially not if money was involved, so as soon as the guy got close enough, I pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the thigh. He left."

"_He left_?" Jo said incredulously. "That's all you have to say about it? You stabbed someone fatally and _he left_?"

"Am I supposed to feel _bad_ about it?" Niko said, the barest hint of annoyance coloring the words. "He was _looking_ at _my baby brother_. Besides, I didn't kill him. He was able to call nine-one-one. I don't think he ever fully explained to anyone what actually happened, but I never saw him again, and that's good enough for me."

"How _old_ were you?" Dean put in.

Niko shrugged. "Ten."

Cal said, helpfully and unnecessarily, "I was five."

"Which brings me to _my _next turn," Niko said, turning to his brother. "Never have I ever… leaped onto the back of a man five times my size and tried to strangle him because I didn't like the way he was looking at _my_ brother."

"Liar," Cal countered pleasantly, reaching out all the same to snag a glass. Sam gave him a bemused look.

"Do we even want to know?"

Cal smirked. "Niko didn't tell the whole story. It's not like that creep just backed off politely after being stabbed by a ten-year-old with a butcher knife. I was five. He was mad at Nik. That's about all I understood of the situation anyway, other than that he was creepy and I was glad Niko had stabbed him. He reached for Niko, I jumped on him and tried to strangle him with a jump rope. And _then _he left."

Jo looked sideways at Sam and Dean. "You two… that sounded perfectly reasonable to you, didn't it? You see nothing strange about the way they handled that situation."

The Winchester's looked at each other.

"Well," said Dean slowly. "I'd a probably just shot the guy, 'stead of using a knife, but other than that…"

Jo shook her head and sighed.

"Never have I ever…" Promise said, startling everybody. She'd been quiet so long, it was weird to hear her speak. ("Almost like the author forgot she was here," Ash said, before Cal decked him and shut him up.)

"...Been dead," she finished smugly, smirking.

They all looked at each other.

"Am I the only one who thinks it's a little weird that, besides Robin, the only one at the table who can legitimately claim that is the vampire?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

"You're not the only one." Everyone except Robin and Promise tossed back their shots.

"Never have I ever…" Dean said, "been a bartender."

Cal, Jo, and Sam both took another shot. It was starting to show in Jo. Sam and Cal were still going strong.

"Never have I ever… been worshipped as a god," Niko said, eyeing Robin. The puck just grinned and drank.

"Okay, I've got one," he said. "Never have I ever… ditched my friends, headed to downtown NYC with my brother, and gone nuclear on an ancient race of psychotically evil elves."

Cal and Niko reached forward simultaneously, clinked their glasses together, and downed them in one swallow. Dean scowled.

"Maaann, you guys get to do all the fun stuff," he grumbled. "Sammy, why can't we ever have a nuke?"

"Because, Dean," Sam explained patiently, with the strange logic and exact pronunciation of the just-this-side-of-sloshed, "that would be _copying_. Also," and here he gave his brother a look Cal knew well –from the mirror– "what the crap would we do with a nuke?"

"It would be _cool_," Dean said petulantly.

"This bottle is empty," Jo announced.

"Switch it out," Ash ordered lazily. Jo reached under her chair and fished around until she found another container. "Last one," she said, reaching for the individual glasses. "Gotta measure it out."

There was enough for ten more shots each. (This _shouldn't_ have been possible, and _someone_ probably _would_ have mentioned it, but _then_ Ash would have _explained_ it, and _nobody_ wanted _that_ so they all just kept quiet and resolved to end the game within the next few minutes.)

It was quick.

"Never have I ever…"

"Killed something with a fork."

"Stabbed _someone _with the _same _fork."

("It was _not_ the _same _fork, Loman.")

"Lived in New York City."

"Changed my brother's diapers."

"Hugged my brother in public."

"Ruffled my brother's hair in public."

("You three don't even _have _brothers. Shut the crap up.")

"Worn a ponytail."

"Worn a _braid_."

"Worn a mohawk."

"Joined a nudist colony."

("Robin, I swear, if you say 'the eighties were fun' _one more time_…")

"Been a college student."

"Been a _car salesman_."

"Been a _waitress_."

"Been married."

"Been possessed."

"Been a brother."

Beat.

("Your loss.")

* * *

They didn't bother trying to figure out who drank the most. It was probably Robin anyway, what with him taking a shot almost every time something was mentioned. Niko was a close second however, since Robin did his best to tailor his statements to trap his friend. Everyone had drunk enough to do some serious liver damage, and everyone except Niko was wavering a little as they walked around The Roadhouse trying to clean up.

"You know, he didn't actually drink any of that," Cal said to Robin and Dean, surprisingly lucidly.

"No?" Dean was surprised. Robin wasn't, not really. Cal nodded solemnly.

"Maybe one or two, like at the hard parts, but the rest of it, not a drop."

"Hard parts?" Sam joined the conversation, pushing a chair under a table nearby. Cal waved a hand.

"You know. Me. Dying. More than once. That stuff."

"Oh."

Niko appeared behind his brother as Cal stumbled over Promise's foot, catching him easily. "Someone's got to be the designated driver," he said, not without amusement. "I don't know how we got here, but somehow, I don't think we're just going to be dropped back into our beds at the apartment."

"No, 'cause that would be too easy," Cal sighed. "And easy doesn't really exist in our world."

Dean nodded sympathetically. "I know how you feel." He yawned, surprised to feel himself sobering as he spoke. "I'm going to bed. Send Sammy up once he's said his emo, girly goodbyes and all that crap."

Sam glared after his brother as Dean headed for the stairs. "Bye," he said shortly to Cal and Niko. "See you… later?"

Niko nodded. "We'll keep in touch." He offered his hand. Sam shook. "Take care of yourselves."

Cal rolled his eyes. "Joss, you guys are sickening. I'll be in the car." He strode out the door.

Ash offered a gallant arm to an only-slightly-tipsy Promise. "M'lady. If you'll allow me, I'll escort you to your transportation."

Promise gifted him a smile. "Thank you." She took his arm, tossed a kind-but-sharp smile in Jo's direction, and headed for the door, Ash in tow. Robin followed them, and Niko brought up the rear, eyes always alert and ready for anything and everything that crossed his path.

Ash came back inside after seeing them off, and Jo hopped up on the counter as he leaned against it with one elbow.

"Did it help?" she asked quietly. "For them to relax for a while, to have a little fun in a safe place. Did it help at all?"

He looked up at her, his little Jo, so young but so grown up already, and dead before her time to boot.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I think so." She smiled at him, hopping off the counter and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Then I'm glad you did it," she said, flouncing over to the stairs. He grinned at her.

"How'd you know?"

She paused. "Please. This whole situation has your signature written all over it. Scrawled all over it. In huge capital letters with bold highlighting." She pointed a finger at him. "I know your work when I see it, buddy." Turning, she made her way up the stairs.

Ash turned back to the bar and looked down at its relatively clean surface.

"Never have I ever…" he murmured. "I'll tell you what I've never: Never have I ever been drinking with so many armed and dangerous people without anybody getting shot _once_. I mean, holy chipotle, between Cal and the Winchesters, there was enough ammo sitting at that table to blow up the whole state." He glared at nothing in particular, but directed his comment everywhere.

"You might wanna think about that next time you go messing with space and time, Missy."

* * *

**A/N: I'm not really good at writing people drunk. Maybe that's a good thing. And, just saying, I don't think getting absolutely smashed is a "good" or "cool" thing to do. It's just a story. ^-^ Stay in school too, kids.**

**Partially inspired by and written while listening to the song "'Fore She was Mama" by Clay Walker. Do I picture Niko while listening to this song? Nooo, of course not. *shifty eyes* (Okay, yeah, I totally do. Think about it as you listen to the song. You'll see it too.) Also, Mary Winchester, though she doesn't appear in this fic.**

**I just wanna say, I love Jo. She's a fantastic character, she's fun, and she's good for the boys and the show. However, she can (and has in canon) come off as a little… not judgmental exactly, more… lacking in understanding. She can be pushy, and childish, and she tends think she's **_**always **_**right. I know she's acting pretty witchy here at times, so I just wanted it to be clear that I'm **_**not**_** intending to bash her.**

**Yes, that's me Ash is talking to at the end.**

**Fanfiction-rant: Am I the only one who has trouble with "the?" I mean, seriously, I can spell "supercalifragilisticexpiali-freakin-docious" but I can't spell "the?" The heck?**


End file.
